Wind Runners
by AllyCats and Agents
Summary: When an explosion decimates a small city it seems that all life has been lost in its borders. The destruction may have brought about the death of thousands, but it transported four to a world where they would run and hide, until circumstances forced them step into the light.
1. The Day Things Will Change

A strange thing was about to happen in a city, or rather a very large village.

It would start in the morning, an electric in the air, a tension none could explain. The feeling would peak and shatter at noon. And everything will explode.

For years to come it would be said that the sky split open and engulfed the city in a mushroom cloud, taking with it all life and civilization.

It would not be mentioned that four survived. It would not be said that four crawled out of the rubble and stumbled away. It would not be said that they caused the annihilation of a thousand people. Because by the time anyone was there to see the wreckage they had scattered, claimed by the wind, not to be seen for some time.

Not until the event repeated itself and they were followed.


	2. Job Gone Wrong

**I don't own anything except for my characters.**

* * *

Allison Parker was not an honest woman. Oh she told the truth sometimes, but as her mother had told her, truth is often the greater evil. Her life was both hard and easy, terrifying and exhilarating, and for all the danger she had seen she loved it. So when she found herself and her team of professionals in an underground lab filled with scientist and a very SiFi looking cylinder with a glowing orb in the center she wasn't happy. SiFi looking cylinders had a horrible habit of causing mayhem and unwanted complications in the existence of people like her.

Thieves that is.

They were specialists, each with their own talents and abilities. Valentine could shoot the wings of a fly without killing it, Lance could slice through the defenses of both security detail and emotional walls with ease of a knife in warm butter, and Dawson could get through and security system with one hand behind her back. And Allison, well, she had a talent for hitting things. Hard.

They took clientele from all tracks of life for all different jobs. In this particular case they had been brought in by one of Valentine's ex-Navy buddies had called them in to investigate a physicist and his associates. He had seemed the run of the mill genius. Holier-than-thou attitude, more money than he need(not that she was one to talk), and a penchant for vanishing at night. Dawson had followed him and lead them to a mostly empty warehouse that wasn't so empty if you went a dozen yards down.

The four had gone in together, Ally in front, followed by Dawson, then Valentine, then Lance, a formation that played to all of their strengths. The halls were too empty, the camera's to still, the guards none existent. And then they reached the lab.

It was all but empty, the only things there a series of computer consoles, readers, and the cylinder. It was humming strangely, the screens of the computers glowing in the dim light of the underground. Dawson, wine colored hair tucked into a braid, positioned herself at one of the consoles and started tapping, grumbling quiet curses at the firewalls.

"Parker," Allison looked up at her name to find Lance, their leader, crouched at one of the large metal panels in the wall. It was open slightly and Ally cringed when she lowered herself next to her boss. Scientist, or she assumed they were, all dead and pushed into the wall. Bullet holes marked their death, execution styled. Valentine called them over to where he had positioned himself next to Dawson and they pushed the bodies back in, securing the panel with partially destroyed screws.

"What's happening?" Lance's voice cut through the soft murmur of the machines and Dawson gave them a grim look.

"What's happening is we're about to die," it wasn't an uncommon phrase, they had all developed a sense of humor that was relatively grim, but none of them ever said it with such grim certainty before.

"What do you mean?" Lance's eyes, glinting gold Topaz, shot across the screen and Ally stood by, feet shoulder width and knees braced. Eskrima sticks balanced on her lower back, strapped in place, thick high heels giving her normally meager height a few extra inches. Something cold, almost fear, coiled in the pit of her stomach. It settled over her skin and she let it stay there, using the tap of adrenaline to help focus on the details of the place.

They were going to die. But what would cause it? No beeping, which ruled out many bombs, no sent in the air, not dizziness or shakiness, so poisons were mostly out. They had already cleared out any guards still remaining, so it was unlikely they would be shot. No one even knew they were there. Or it was doubtful that they did.

Lance cursed as she went over the readings on the screens and Valentine met Ally's eyes, blue clashing with green. There was a similar look in his, one that spoke volumes of his experiences. They knew the risk of dying, the two of them especially, and though it was always a risk it was usually expected that they would meet death head on. That didn't seem to be the case this time.

"What is it?" the mission calm had settled over them both and it showed in Valentine's voice.

"We need to get out, now," Lance was already headed for the door but a shake of Dawson's head stopped the other two from following behind. The girl was staring at the screen grimly, body tense.

"It's too late," she stated, standing up from where she had been leaning over the console. Even in running shoes she was taller than Ally, taller than Lance as well. The only one who met her height was Valentine, and that was just barely.

"Why, what's going to happen?" no one got the chance to answer Ally's question because by that time the humming had grown into a buzz and the light in the cylinder was getting brighter. Heat came off of it in waves and it started screeching in electronic fury.

She spun around, reaching for her weapons but finding them useless when white, searing heat engulfed her and all she could do was scream above the deafening explosion as her skin split and her organs twisted inside her. Blood slithered from her ears, eyes, mouth nose and the pressure became unbearable. There was a pop and then all she knew was that there was something hard digging into her side.

* * *

When he came too Jordan Valentine, sniper extraordinaire, was coated in blood and bruised all over. With a groan he pushed himself off and out of a layer of ruble, grimacing when he found one of his ribs was broken and making it hard to breath. A look around revealed destruction on all sides, only the sturdiest of buildings still standing, and even then they looked like skeletons.

There was a dead woman lying a foot away from him, eyes glassy and skin mostly burnt off. Her neck was twisted at an awkward angle and her mouth was open in a ghostly scream. He had to turn away to avoid throwing up.

A sound from his left drew his eyes and he found himself clutching his pistol tightly, raising it with shaking, aching hands to aim at a dust covered Teresa Lance, her normally blonde had brown with debris and her own blood. He couldn't hear clearly and when he tilting his head he almost lost his lunch anyway, feeling the thick liquid of partially congealed blood slosh out of his orifices. His mouth tasted copped, he smelled only blood, and there was red in his peripheral vision. A look at Lance revealed streaks of red leading from eyes, nose, mouth and ears. She looked as dazed as he felt. From his right rose Parker, and then Dawson. Both were in similar states of injury and grogginess but necessity drove them all to stand, no matter how much his knees screamed at him to sit back down.

"Well we're not dead," Parker grunted, stumbling over to his side, leaning against the other girl as he turned and fumbled over broken buildings and bodies to Lance, who was looking more clear eyed than the other three combined.

"Well they were successful then," Dawson stated, flopping against a shattered wall once they were within easy speaking distance again. The other three followed suite and Jordan couldn't help but let out a small wine when he bumped his side against a pole. He waved off the concerned looks and attention returned the technical expert.

"Explain, please," he request.

She did.

"Mr. Andrews, our mark, was working in theoretical physics. Only he took it a step further. He thought that if we could harness enough energy he could tear a hole in space-time and step through. This was a test run, a sort of way for him to get his feet wet. The generator he created to experiment with was based off of nuclear war heads."

"So he set of an atomic bomb in the middle of a city to see if he could go to another dimension. Or send something," Lance looked grim and Jordan glowered, blue eyes shards of ice in the dust clouded sun light. All around them was decimation, death, and all for one mans need to push the limits of possibility.

"So what you're saying," Parker began, cracking her knuckles, "Is that he sent us to god knows where?"

"That's about right," Dawson confirmed. Her hair fell out of its braids and bounced around her face in messy tangle.

"So what now?" he heard himself ask, and started flicking the clip in and out of his gun, taking comfort in the cold metal between his fingers. He wasn't ready to do anything, he knew that. He was injured, exhaustion was creeping up behind his eyes and this was not a place to sleep in. Who know what kinds of radiation they were risking just by staying as long as they had. Lance was their leader, and the first to stand up, facing the edge of decimation.

"Now we get the hell out of dodge."


	3. Catching Up

For the next two years they traveled this world and learned its ways. The language, the people, the government, and above all the military system. They absorbed information as they went, leaving legends in their foot prints. Stories of sticks that brought lightning, of rods that rained down lead. Myths of a girl with tiger scars that could walk through dreams, of a wine haired woman who could not be ambushed. Tales of the blonde general that never lost, of the fire haired man that killed without touching, their escapades spreading from the mouths of those that lived.

They could not be found, because they never stayed, always on the move. The moment it seemed like they were found they would be gone on the next gust of wind. Those that knew them as they were stayed quiet, or shared secret smiles that spoke more than they did.

Sometimes they traveled together, sometimes in pairs, and occasionally one would split up from the others. When that was the case the legends of the tiger striped woman would increase, and sometimes they would be included in the news, or magazines.

* * *

Sage Dawson smiled at the magazine cover, a very strange rendition of her friend with exaggerated teeth, slanted eyes, and scars that were far larger than would really be seen. For not real reason she picked up the fold of paper and set it in her basket, finishing her shopping and handing over the money due, exchanging the hard basket for a plastic bag and unslinging the umbrella from the crook of her arm.

She left the shop behind her and entered the eternal downpour, shield flicking open and echoing the patter of rain drops. The streets were as they always were, dark with cloud coverage and misty with water fall. The people, a down trodden, war hardened bunch, were friendly, once you sent out the first greeting. Just as Sage did, calling greetings to those she knew from the neighborhood and having them returned. She was 31, but she acted nearly a decade younger.

Her apartment building was like all the others, tall and entirely metal. Her temporary home was on the fifth floor, a small, cheap, and easy to leave place.

"Would it kill them to invent elevators?" the woman pulled out her keys and slipped them in the lock, pausing a moment when she felt the rapid approach of her neighbors. They appeared a few seconds after she noticed them, landing silently on the balcony next to her. She jumped in faux surprise, almost dropping her bag as she spun to look at the boys that dropped down a scant three yards away.

"Did we scare you?" the taller asked, his strangely pallored skin peeking out from beneath the straw hat he wore. She could see the flash of sharp, predatory teeth from just over the high collar of his cloak and glanced briefly at his roommate, a man younger than them both, who met her eyes impassively, as was his nature.

"No," she huffed, pretending to lie and pushed her door open, giving them both a quick once over from the corner of her eyes, "Neither of you got hurt?"

"No," was the quiet reply of the younger, and Sage smiled in response. In the month and half she had lived there she had come to be fond of her strange neighbors, and their occupation worried the girl. It was evident from the way they held themselves and they way they moved that they knew what they were doing, that they were as good at their job as she was at hers, but that did little to ease her nerves.

"That's good. Have you boys eaten?" she asked, and watched a light appear in the much, much taller man's eyes. She smiled without them answering and pushed her door open further, "Come by around 6?" she offered.

"We'll see you then," the man who could be a shark promised, and she smiled before slipping in.

* * *

Blonde hair wiped in the wind as she walked, grimacing at the ferocity of it. Wind was not her friend, end of story. Teresa Lance continued her walk in the wind, eyes locked on the dot of green that spread out before her. Valentine walked by her side, hands stuffed in his pockets and back hunched. Their gear was stowed away in cases and hidden from view by gifts from certain people, taking the form of scrolls that could be un sealed by even them.

The sand slipped and slid underneath their feet as they made their way across the desert, hours blurring together with no destination and too tired to bother talking even if they had been so inclined. At last sand turned to dirt and endless sky was broken by a small group of trees, and oasis. Almost immediately Valentine collapsed under a tree, tossing his head back and letting out a sigh of appreciation for the shade. Teresa slid down next to him, letting her pack drop to the ground with a resounding thud.

They lay there for a long time, catching their breath and sheltering under the trees. They filled their flasks, replaced the stopped and stood up, facing the opposite direction as the sun.

"Where are we going again?" Valentine asked, and Teresa sighed as she adjusted her grip on her backpack, pulling the clothe on her head down further.

"Somewhere colder. Somewhere much, much colder."

"What's that country with the mountains, lightning?" he asked, and she shrugged, to focused on leaving the damn desert to care much. She really, truly hated that place. But it wasn't as if it could be helped, they had to cross it to get to their next job, in the Land of Waves, which was supposed to be very misty. And hopefully a better place.

"Probably. We could go there. I mean, I hear they have some really good nature there. Challenging forests," he fell behind her a few feet, retying the scarf that protected him from particles of sand in the air.

"Parker's probably there then. Have you heard from her lately?"

"Not since we split up last month in Iwa. I don't know if she was going to take a break or go on one of those crazy training kicks Althea got her into. Is it wrong if I want her to be doing the former?"

"No, I worry about her too. These ninja really screwed her up, I thought she was going to kill herself trying to keep up with them when we got here," Teresa muttered.

"And you didn't?" he retorted, and she tossed him an annoyed look over her shoulder at him. He gave her a cheeky grin and silence fell between them as they continued across the desert, trudging through thick, endless sand.

They had been travelling together to a job that required both of their skill sets for the past three weeks, a good amount of that being spent in the desert. They chatted, caught up with each other and speculated as to where their MIA teammate had vanished too this time. They three stayed in touch regularly, mostly through Dawson, who had a habit of staying in one place longer than the rest and setting up permanent bolt holes in various countries.

But much to the leaders annoyance Parker could vanish in a second and once she did only the red haired girl could track her down.

It interfered with their business on more than one occasion, and the next time they saw each other Teresa was going to have to have a serious talk with the Hitter.

They finally got out of the desert four hours later.


End file.
